Callie was a puzzle to him.

Her intentions and determination were admirable, but Jack didn’t believe she understood what she was up against. Such a sheltered city girl would have a hard time adjusting to life in a place like this.

Had her life back in Ohio been so terrible that even with what happened to his brother, she—

Jack gave his head a shake. He’d let her get under his skin. He had to remember that her personal problems were no concern of his. She wanted to challenge his claim to his nieces and nephew, and that made her his opponent.

Family mattered. That was something only he could offer his nieces and nephew.

But still…he’d never met a woman like her. Callie was…he hadn’t quite figured out what she was, besides being a thorn in his side. And just plain wrong about her rights in regard to Annabeth and Simon and Emma.

On the other hand, could he really say the kids would be better off with a wandering bachelor than with his brother’s widow?

MILLS & BOON

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WINNIE GRIGGS

is a city girl born and raised in southeast Louisiana’s Cajun Country who grew up to marry a country boy from the hills of northwest Louisiana. Though her Prince Charming is more comfortable riding a tractor than a white steed, the two of them have been living their own happily-ever-after for thirty-plus years. During that time they raised four children and an assortment of dogs, cats, fish, hamsters, turtles and 4-H sheep.

In addition to her day job at a utility company and her writing career, Winnie serves on committees within her church and several writing organizations, and is active in local civic organizations—she truly believes the adage that you reap in proportion to what you sow.

In addition to writing and reading, Winnie enjoys spending time with her family, cooking and exploring flea markets. Readers can contact Winnie at P.O. Box 398, Plain Dealing, LA 71064, or e-mail her at winnie@winniegriggs.com.

Winnie Griggs
The Hand-Me-Down Family

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.

—Ephesians 2:10

To each of the following, my most sincere

gratitude:

My agent, Michelle Grajkowski, who has always been upbeat about my work and has never allowed me to give up or get discouraged.

To the members of the “I Told You So Club,” Cathy, Laura, Margaret and Lenora, who gave me some not-so-gentle nudges toward taking this leap-of-faith path for my writing. Thank you, ladies, and I hereby admit publicly that you were oh-so-right.

To my “first readers,” Joanne, Cathy and Renee—your feedback was invaluable.

I am truly blessed to have each of you in my life.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

California, May 1888

“Hey, Jack!”

Jack bit back an oath at the hail, then turned in a slow, controlled movement. He pinned the foreman’s errand boy with a cold stare, holding his peace for three long heartbeats, just enough time to set the unthinking messenger to fidgeting in his saddle.

Finally, Jack pulled the sliver of twig from his mouth. “You got a death wish, Dobbins? Or didn’t you see those yellow flags marking off this area?”

The young man’s expression faltered. “Yes, but you’re still—”

Jack snapped the twig and tossed it away. “I’m inside the perimeter because I’m setting charges. Which means I’m working with enough explosives right now to blow you, me and most of this pile of rock to smithereens.”

Dobbins’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he stuck out his chin and pulled a paper from his pocket. “A telegram came for you. Mr. Gordon wanted—”

Jack’s jaw muscle twitched. Fool kid. “I don’t care if it’s a set of executive orders from President Grover Cleveland himself. When I’m in the middle of a job, you don’t cross the perimeter unless it’s life or death.” He narrowed his eyes. “Because it just might turn into that.”

A quick nod signaled understanding.

Jack wiped his brow with his sleeve, already regretting his harsh tone. The heat and the hours were starting to wear on him. He waved the intruder forward. “Well, now that you’re here, you might as well give me the thing.”

Dobbins nudged his horse forward and handed the folded paper to Jack. His eyes rounded when he saw Jack slide it into his pocket without so much as a glance. “Aren’t you gonna read it?”

“Not ’til I’m done here. I don’t need any more distractions right now.” He raised a brow. “Anything else?”

Dobbins got the message. “Guess not.” With another nod, he jerked on the reins, turned his horse, and headed back in the direction of the base camp.

Jack frowned as he watched the messenger gallop off.

A telegram. Now who would—

He was doing it already, he realized.

He shoved the telegram out of his mind. Right now he needed to focus on the work at hand. Like he’d just told Dobbins, he couldn’t afford distractions while he was on the job.

Twenty minutes later Jack stood and tilted his hat up. He stepped back far enough to take in the remainder of what just a week ago had been a steep, rocky hillside. He drew his elbows back behind him, stretching the kinks out of cramped muscles.

Then he mentally reviewed the placement of all four charges one more time. You just couldn’t be too careful.

Satisfied everything was in order, he headed back toward the stand of scrub he’d designated as the meeting spot for his two-man team. Hopefully they were already waiting for him. He was more than ready to wrap up this job.

As he crossed the uneven ground, Jack fingered the folded sheet of paper tucked in his pocket. The only people who’d be likely to send him a telegram would be his sister or brother.

He’d just gotten a letter from Nell a few weeks ago. She hadn’t had anything new to say—just updates on what was going on back home and sisterly admonitions to visit soon, coupled with a bribe to bake up one of his favorite apple pecan pies.

No, he couldn’t picture either Nell or Lanny sending a telegram. At least not to deliver good news.

The back of his neck prickled and his step slowed.

Putting off reading the thing was becoming more of a distraction than whatever news the telegram contained could possibly be.

Jack jerked the crumpled paper out of his pocket and read the four stark lines written there.

And as surely as if someone had detonated the charges prematurely, he felt the world rock under his feet.

Chapter Two

Texas, four days later

Callie studied the man seated across from her as the stagecoach swayed and bounced, bringing her ever closer to her new life.

She placed a finger to her chin. No, he wasn’t a sea captain. The hat was all wrong and he had an air about him that seemed more akin to earthiness than saltwater.

She scrunched her lips to one side as she examined his features more closely. He was actually quite handsome, in a dangerous, rugged sort of way. Rather than detracting from his looks, that faded scar on the left side of his chin served to lend him an adventurous air. She refused to believe a man who looked as he did was anything so mundane as a farmer or shopkeeper.

He could be a Texas Ranger. Yes, that would fit. He had that lean, grim-purpose look about him.

She settled into her mental tale-spinning. So, if he was a ranger, what was his story? Perhaps he was returning home for a well-earned rest after grueling weeks of tracking down desperate outlaws. Or maybe he was traveling to Sweetgum on official business in search of—

Callie straightened in her seat. Was it her imagination, or had they slowed down a bit? A quick glance out the window confirmed that the tree-lined countryside had given way to scattered farms. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the edge of a small town was just up ahead.

This was it. Her new home—Sweetgum, Texas.

She adjusted her poke bonnet with hands that weren’t quite steady, then laced her fingers tightly together and closed her eyes.

Heavenly Father, I’m truly grateful to You for getting me all the way here from Ohio without a hitch. But we both know that was the easy part compared to what comes next. And since this whole undertaking was actually Your idea, I know You’re going to help me figure out what to say and do when I step outside and come face-to-face with my new husband for the first time.

Bolstered by that thought, Callie began gathering her belongings. Then she paused and slanted a glance toward the object of her former musings.

Her unsociable traveling companion seemed completely unaware of their arrival.

Should she say something to him?

He’d climbed aboard at their last stop and, after the briefest of greetings, settled into the opposite corner, closed his eyes and hadn’t moved since. Not that she resented his lack of attention.

After all, being this close to such a man was a new experience for her, and his closed-off demeanor had given her an opportunity to study him unobserved. Besides which, trying to concoct a history for him from only the hints provided by the rough and calloused look of his hands, his weathered complexion and his firm, wiry build had been an interesting way to pass the time.

One thing she’d decided about thirty minutes into her story-weaving was that, whatever his profession, he was not someone at peace with his world. There was something about his very stillness, about the hint of tension in his stubble-covered jaw, that pointed to a weary or troubled spirit.

Before she could make up her mind whether or not to disturb him, his eyes opened and their gazes collided. The lack of any residual drowsiness in those startling blue eyes made her wonder whether or not he’d truly been asleep.

The heat rose in Callie’s cheeks. How mortifying to have been caught staring so rudely! She tugged on the edge of her bonnet again. Thank goodness it already hid most of her face.

“We’re here,” she blurted, then mentally cringed. Why did she always feel compelled to rush in and fill the silences?

He straightened. “So I see.”

The hint of dryness in his tone warmed her cheeks even further. But the driver opened the door, rescuing Callie from more embarrassment.

As she rose to leave the coach, the glimpse of the dusty street and plank-lined sidewalk forcibly reminded her that she had left her familiar world behind. A bubble of panic rose in her throat.

What if Mr. Tyler was disappointed when he met her?

What if she couldn’t learn how to adjust to life in this rural community?

What if—

Callie took a deep, steadying breath. Forgive me, Lord. I know we already wrestled with my doubts before the wedding. This is the ministry You gave me. Mr. Tyler and his daughter need me, and I need them. I—

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

Her companion studied her with a worried frown, no doubt wondering why she wasn’t moving. After her earlier actions, he must think her completely addled.

Callie offered an apologetic smile. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just making certain I have all my things.” She adjusted her bonnet once more, squared her shoulders and stepped down from the stagecoach onto the sidewalk’s dusty boards.

Pasting on what she hoped was a confident smile, Callie waited for her husband to step forward and introduce himself. But, while she received curious glances from some of the passersby, no one greeted her.

Her smile faltered. Where was he?

She continued scanning the sidewalk even as she moved aside to allow her fellow passenger to exit the stage.

Why wasn’t Mr. Tyler here? Surely he wouldn’t keep her standing alone in foreign surroundings where she didn’t know anyone…

I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.

The remembered verse calmed her. She wasn’t alone. God was with her.

Mr. Tyler had undoubtedly been delayed. Poor man. He was likely as nervous about this meeting as she was. And he had little Annabeth to tend to as well. It must be difficult for him to care for a child and a farm all on his own.

Well, he wouldn’t have to any longer.

Trying to ignore the stubborn prickling of anxiety that wouldn’t quite go away, Callie turned to study the community that she would now call home. These people would be her neighbors and, hopefully, her friends.

The town itself was just as Julia had described in her letters. The stage had stopped in front of the Sweetgum Hotel and Post Office. To her left she could see an apothecary shop and the mercantile with a long wooden bench out front. On the other side of the hotel stood a bank, and past that the doctor’s office.

Callie glanced across the street and frowned in dismay. About a block down the road, one of the buildings had been reduced to charred timbers. She immediately offered up a prayer that strength and healing be afforded to the lives that had been touched by that calamity.

What business had it housed? It was next to the barber shop, so—

The sight of a gentleman hurrying toward the stage jerked Callie’s attention away from the puzzle.

Her heart stuttered a few beats.

Was this him?

She stood straighter and adjusted her bonnet. But instead of approaching her, he absently tipped his hat in her direction and stopped in front of her fellow passenger.

“Jack, welcome back,” he said as the two men shook hands. “I just wish it were under happier circumstances.”

Callie turned away, deflated. It wasn’t Mr. Tyler.

Well, at least now she had a name for her traveling companion. Jack. A good, solid name. And, if the greeting he’d received was any indication, she’d apparently guessed right as to his troubled spirit.

The two men spoke in low tones and Callie immediately focused on other sounds, avoiding the temptation to eavesdrop.

A buckboard clattered down the street accompanied by the muffled clop-clop of horses’ hooves. A shop bell jingled as a woman emerged from the mercantile with a loaded basket. Two boys raced down the sidewalk, a yipping dog at their heels.

Such bustling normalcy all around her. Yet she felt isolated, apart from it all, like a stranger peeking in through a window at a family gathering.

The minutes drew out as the driver unloaded luggage and parcels from the back of the stagecoach. It was hotter here in Texas than it had been in Ohio. Callie longed to loosen her tight-fitting bonnet, or better yet, take it off altogether, but she dared not. Not until she was away from prying eyes and safely inside her new home.

A number of townsfolk stopped to speak to Jack, but though she received a few friendly nods in addition to more curious glances, no one stepped forward to greet her.

Finally, the last of the baggage and cargo was unloaded and the driver stepped inside the hotel with a mail sack. The man, Jack, lifted two of the bags, easily hefting the larger one up to his shoulder.

Callie couldn’t help but wonder—would Mr. Tyler be as fine and strong a figure of a man as this Jack?

As if feeling her eyes on him, the man paused and met her gaze. His expression was gruff and a muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Is someone meeting you?”

She smiled, grateful for his show of concern, reluctant though it might be. “Yes, thank you. I’m certain my husband will be along soon.”

Something akin to surprise flashed across his features but it was gone in an instant.

“Good.” He nodded and allowed his friend to take one of his bags. “If you’re sure you don’t need any help…” He tipped his hat and turned.

As she watched him walk away, it was as if the last link to her old life were being severed. A foolish notion, since she really didn’t know this man at all. But before she could stop herself, Callie took a small step forward. “Excuse me.”

Both men turned, facing her with questioning glances.

“Ma’am?” Jack prompted.

“I was wondering if perhaps either of you know a Mr. Leland Tyler? He was supposed to…” Her voice tapered off as she saw their startled reactions.

Jack’s jaw tightened visibly. “Why would you be looking for Lan—Leland?”

Callie noticed his familiar use of her husband’s name. “So you do know him.”

That tic near the corner of his mouth made another appearance. “Yes.” He didn’t expand on his one-word answer, and his expression remained closed, unreadable. “But you didn’t answer my question. How do you know Leland?”

Callie offered up a quick prayer that Mr. Tyler would arrive soon. He should be the one making the introductions to his neighbors and friends. “I’m Callista Johnson Tyler, his wife.”

“Wife!” Jack set his bag down with a loud thump and sent a sharp look his companion’s way. “You know what she’s talking about, Virgil?”

The other man shook his head. “Lanny never said anything about a new wife.”

They certainly were reacting strongly to her news. She knew Julia had only been gone about four months, but it wasn’t unusual for a widower to remarry so soon, especially when he had a young child to care for.

For that matter, why didn’t they already know about her? Surely Leland wouldn’t have kept such momentous news from his friends and neighbors? Unless he’d worried she wouldn’t show up.

Or was there another, more disturbing reason? Her heart beat faster as possibilities whirled through her mind.

Realizing the men were watching her, Callie tried to hide her confusion behind a confident air. “I’m not certain why Mr. Tyler chose to keep this a secret. Perhaps he was planning to surprise everyone. But be that as it may, I assure you, I am indeed Mrs. Leland Tyler. If you’ll be so good as to tell me where my husband can be found, I’m certain he’ll verify my identity.”

Jack took another step forward. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first.” He swept an arm toward his companion. “This is Virgil Wilson.”

She smiled and nodded acknowledgment. “Mr. Wilson.” The name was familiar. Oh, yes, he and his wife owned the farm that adjoined Leland’s. Perhaps he could transport her there if Leland didn’t show up soon.

The farmer touched the brim of his hat, ducking his head respectfully. “Ma’am.”

When she turned back to Jack, he was studying her intently, as if trying to read something from her countenance. Holding her gaze, he extended his hand. “And I’m Lanny’s brother, Jack.”

Brother! Of course—Jack Tyler. Julia had mentioned Leland’s brother in many of her letters. It had grieved her friend deeply when the breach had grown up between the brothers, and even more so when Jack had left Sweetgum and all but cut himself off from his family and friends.

No wonder he was startled by her news. If he was just now returning to Sweetgum after all these years, of course he wouldn’t know about Leland’s second marriage.

Feeling her anxiety ebb, she grasped his outstretched hand eagerly. “Then you are my brother-in-law. I’m so very pleased to meet you.”

She smiled, relieved and happy. Jack Tyler. Perhaps he was part of her mission here—maybe she could help heal whatever rift existed between the two brothers. Julia would have wanted that.

When her newfound relation released her hand, Callie adjusted her bonnet again. “If I’d realized who you were, I would have waited before I said anything. I’m certain your brother wanted to tell you himself.”

“No harm done.” His expression, however, hinted that all was not well. Did he resent hearing about the marriage from a stranger?

“Well, it’s a wonderful circumstance that we should arrive together.” She was more certain than ever that the Lord’s hand was in this. “Since your brother is delayed, perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me to his home.” Surely he couldn’t refuse her request, no matter what rift existed between himself and Leland.

But Mr. Wilson intervened, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid that—”

Without taking his eyes from Callie, Mr. Tyler interrupted whatever his friend was about to say. “Leland isn’t at home right now.”

The hairs at the nape of Callie’s neck prickled.

There was something strangely intense about the look he was giving her.

And how would he know Leland wasn’t at home when he’d only just arrived in town himself?

Chapter Three

“I don’t understand.”

Jack saw the uneasy flicker in the woman’s expression. Fair enough. He wasn’t sure he knew what to make of her, either.

How was he supposed to believe her claim that Lanny had married again, had replaced his first wife with someone so unlike the vibrant, delicate and pretty-as-a-spring-meadow woman Julia had been?

Not that this woman was unattractive. He couldn’t see much of her face, but she had a nice enough smile and a trim figure.

But she wasn’t Julia.

In Nell’s last letter she’d mentioned how hard a time Lanny was having dealing with Julia’s passing. It was one of the reasons Jack had been thinking about making a visit home.

This remarriage thing just didn’t make sense.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He tried to keep his voice even. No point fanning her distrust. “I know you have questions. To be honest, I have a few for you as well. But it’s a mite hot out here on the sidewalk.”

He nodded toward the open door to the hotel. “Why don’t we step inside and find a more comfortable place to talk.” Not to mention less public.

He saw her hesitation and spoke up again before she could object. “I’m sure Virgil won’t mind watching our bags while we figure this out.”

“Uh, yes, ma’am.” Virgil gamely followed his lead. “I mean, no, I don’t mind at all. You two just go right ahead. And take your time. I mean, you have a lot—”

“There, that’s settled.” Jack used his best take-charge tone to cut off Virgil’s rambling. He wanted to give her the news his way, in his time.

He pointed to the trunk and carpetbag still sitting on the sidewalk. “So, are these yours? We’ll just set them with mine over here out of the way.”

Once he got her inside they could sort through her story without the whole town looking on. It was a pretty sure bet that once he told her why Lanny wasn’t here to meet her there was going to be a scene of some sort.

Which was another good reason to get her inside—it would be right handy to have her already seated in case she decided to swoon. He just hoped she wasn’t one of those melodramatic females who were prone to hysterics.

But her lips compressed in a stubborn line. “Just a minute, Mr. Tyler. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where my husband is.” She tugged on that bonnet again. “And what exactly did you mean by ‘figure this out?’”

Just his luck—she was going to be muleheaded. “Ma’am, trust me, you really don’t want to have this conversation out here in the middle of town.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow, trying a bit of intimidation. Couldn’t she see that he just wanted to make this easier on her?

Rather than backing down, though, the obstinate woman tilted her chin even higher. “It’s a simple question, sir, requiring a simple answer. Where is my husband?”

Jack dropped his arms and narrowed his eyes. At another time he might have admired her spirit, her stubborn resolve. But not today. He was too tired from four days of travel and frustrating delays—four days of trying to absorb the impact of what had happened—to continue this argument.

She wanted to know where Lanny was, then so be it. “Have it your way. I’ll take you right to him.”

“Huh?” Virgil almost dropped the bag he held. “Jack, what are—”

Jack raised a hand. “No, no, it’s okay.” He gave his friend a tight smile. “I planned to pay a visit when I got here anyway. No point putting it off, and this lady might as well come along.”

Virgil shot a look toward the far end of town, then shifted his gaze uncertainly from the woman back to Jack.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder before he could protest again, or worse yet, blurt out something that would set off a scene. “You don’t mind seeing to our luggage while the lady and I take a little walk, do you?”

“No, of course not. But—”

“Good.” With a short nod, Jack turned back to Lanny’s self-proclaimed bride and swept his hand out in a gesture that was more challenge than good manners. “Shall we?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she drew her lower lip between her teeth and gave that odd-looking bonnet another tug forward.

Jack’s flash of irritation turned inward. There he went, taking his frustrations out on someone else.

Again.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling wearier than he ever had in his twenty-nine years. He hadn’t had more than the odd thirty-minute nap here or there since he’d gotten that telegram.

And he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do now that he was here. Just the thought of—

He shook his head, trying to focus on the current issue. That other business was his problem, not this woman’s. Given the circumstances, she deserved better treatment. “Look, ma’am, I—”

“Very well.” She spoke over his attempted apology as if he hadn’t opened his mouth. Her spine was rail-spike stiff, all signs of hesitation and uncertainty replaced by an air of determination. “Lead the way.”

It was Jack’s turn to hesitate. He could tell she was still a bit uneasy and admired her pluck, but maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Yes, taking her along would give them a bit of privacy, but it would also put him alone with her when he broke the news. He wasn’t good at dealing with emotional women. And he certainly wasn’t in any shape to deal with one today.

Then he shrugged. She had to be told, and his gut said she wouldn’t get all hysterical on him.

“This way.”

They started down the sidewalk, Jack matching his pace to her shorter stride.

They walked in silence. Jack kept his eyes focused straight ahead and refused to slow his step, halting any would-be greetings from the folks they passed with a short nod. He wasn’t ready to talk to his former friends and neighbors right now.

He had to get this over with first.

He carefully avoided looking at whatever was left of Nell and Jed’s café, but as they drew even with it he could smell the acrid odor of scorched wood and ashes that still lingered in the air, threatening to suffocate him.

Jack shot a quick glance at the blackened remains in spite of himself.

A definite mistake.

Loss and guilt slammed into him again, harder this time, like a fist in the gut. It was as if he’d tossed a stick of explosives into the building himself, leaving this grotesque skeleton of charred timbers and debris.

He scrubbed a hand along the right side of his face. Perhaps if he’d made plans to come home before now, to make amends. If he had been here when—

“Pardon me.”

His companion’s breathless words interrupted his thoughts. A quick glance her way revealed she was struggling to keep up.

He slowed immediately. “Sorry, ma’am. My mind was on something else.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the charred rubble, then back at him with dawning dismay. “That building, it was the café, wasn’t it?”

He felt that betraying muscle in his jaw twitch. “Yes.” And just how did she know that?

Unspoken questions tumbled across her face, a growing dread clouding her eyes. Apparently she knew of the café’s significance to him.

And to her as well, if she was who she said she was.

How did she know enough to read the situation from a burned-out building she’d never seen before? Had Lanny really married this woman, this apparent stranger to Sweetgum and everyone here?

Twice her mouth opened then closed again. For a change she seemed to have nothing to say. Instead, she gave him an assessing look, nodded and increased her pace.

He spared a moment to ponder over the puzzle this woman presented. In the short time he’d been in her company she’d proven herself to be more stubborn, outspoken and full of spit and vinegar than might be seemly for a female. Yet just now she’d seen no-telling-what in his expression and held back her questions. Not at all the reaction he’d expected.

The walk through town seemed endless. The closer they got to their destination, the tighter the tension inside him coiled. Everyday sounds like dogs barking and harnesses jangling seemed both magnified and distant. He felt eyes focused on them from every angle. It was as if the two of them were the main characters in some sort of stage play, only he’d forgotten all his lines and even which role he was assigned.

“Watch your step.” He automatically took her elbow as the sidewalk ended. As soon as they stepped down onto the well-packed dirt path, she withdrew her arm. But not before he felt the slight trembling of her muscles.

So, the lady wasn’t as composed as she wanted him to think. Was it because she’d already figured out what had happened?

Or because she still didn’t trust him?

The main section of town gave way almost immediately to greener expanses. Up ahead was Sweetgum’s schoolhouse. The church was just beyond, close enough that it was difficult to tell where the schoolyard ended and the churchyard began.

Both of these places had been a central part of his world, his life, at one time. But no more.

He’d outgrown the schoolroom at sixteen.

He’d outgrown the church a few years later, when he’d decided it was finally time to get away from Sweetgum and strike out on his own.

Jack shook off those memories as he led his companion across the schoolyard, past the church building and up to the white picket fence that marked the boundaries of the cemetery.

He paused and turned to her, removing his hat and raking a hand through his hair.

She stood there, rooted to the spot, her eyes wide, her gaze fixed on the neat rows of grassy mounds.

“Ma’am?”

She started, and her gaze flew to his.

Her pallor roused a protective response in him. She looked nearly as white as the ribbon on her bonnet. Jack could see the shock, the inner battle she was fighting between denial and a sickly acceptance.

Was he going to have to deal with a swooner after all?

“Steady now.” He took her elbow. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this. But I thought it was better to have a bit of privacy. I—”

She raised a hand. “No, I understand.” Her gaze slid back to the somberly peaceful green, and she swallowed audibly. “Was it the fire?”

He nodded.

“And your sister?”

Ah, Nell. His sweet, peacemaker of a sister. To die like that…

Not trusting himself to speak, he pulled the crumbled telegram from his pocket and handed it to her. He didn’t have to look at it again to know exactly what it said.

The words were burned into his memory.

Café fire. Nell, Jed, Lanny killed. Please return to Sweetgum earliest possible. Children need you.

Callie tasted the bile rising in her throat as she read the terse missive. These people were her newly acquired family, the people she had so eagerly looked forward to meeting and befriending. To learn that they had died under such horrific circumstances…

Everything seemed to go silent, to pull back from her. A heartbeat later her vision clouded over and the earth swayed under her feet.

“Whoa, there.”

Mr. Tyler’s hand was under her elbow, steadying her, lending her a measure of strength.

Sounds and objects came rushing back into focus, racing to keep pace with the emotions that careened through her like water rushing over a fall. Horror at the thought of their deaths, confusion over what this meant for her future, and a guilty relief that her husband had not deliberately shunned her after all.

She attempted to smile at her concerned brother-in-law. “Thank you. I’m okay now.”

He raised a brow. Probably worried she’d faint on him.

“Look, there’s a bench over yonder under that cottonwood.” He nodded his head in the direction of a tall leafy tree. Then he cleared his throat. “Why don’t we sit for a spell? It’ll be cooler in the shade and you can tell me the story of how you came to be married to my bother.”

Callie glanced toward the cemetery, then nodded. She could pay her respects to Leland after she and his brother had their talk.

Then she realized how selfish she was being. These people were his family, his siblings and the people he’d grown up with. “I’m sorry to have made this more difficult for you, Mr. Tyler,” she said softly. “And my condolences on your loss.”

He nodded silently, leading her across the grounds.

“When did it happen?” Callie was still trying to take it all in. “The fire, I mean.”

He released her arm as they reached the bench. “Four days ago.” Both his face and voice were controlled, giving no hint of whatever emotion he might be feeling.

Then it hit her. She plopped down onto the bench. Could it be?

She clasped her hands tightly and stared up at him. “Do you know what time?”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Pardon?”

“At what time did your brother die?” She heard the shrillness of her tone, saw his brow go up. No doubt he thought her hysterical. But right now she didn’t care.

He lifted a hand, palm up. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here. I only—”

“Do you have any idea?” she pressed. “Morning? Afternoon? Please, this is important.” Her heart beat with a dull thumping as she waited for his response. A few hours one way or the other could make all the difference in the world.

The thing was, she didn’t really know what answer she wanted to hear.

He scratched his chin. “Virgil did mention the café was nearly empty because it was after lunch…”

“I see.” She sagged back in her seat, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

Help me to see Your will in this, Father. Because right now, all I feel is confused and adrift.

“And just why does the time matter so much?” Jack asked, interrupting her silent prayer.

Callie dug in her handbag and pulled out a packet of papers. She stared at them for a moment, then held them out to him. “Because, as you’ll see if you look through these documents, your brother and I were married by proxy four days ago. At exactly ten o’clock in the morning.”

She gave him a humorless smile. “Which means, since the ceremony occurred before the fire, I am indeed a widow without ever having met my husband.”

Chapter Four

As he took the papers from her, Callie closed her eyes, trying to absorb the fact that she had become a widow without ever knowing what it meant to be a wife. Yes, it was true that Leland had meant this to be a marriage in name only, but she had secretly hoped that, given time…

Stop it! Callie gave herself a mental shake. She should be mourning the man, not the end of some foolish daydream.

More to the point was the fact that she no longer had a reason to be here.

Had she come all this way for nothing?

Heavenly Father, I thought this was Your answer to my prayers. But was I too impulsive yet again? Was this mere wishful thinking on my part rather than Your intent for me? Please, help me understand what it is You want me to do now.

The sound of rustling papers drew her attention back to her companion.

He leaned forward, pinning her with that intense gaze again.

Her skin prickled. Even though they were out in the open rather than closed up in a stagecoach, being alone with him suddenly felt much more dangerous than it had earlier.

“So tell me,” he asked, “how did this proxy marriage of yours come about?”

She bristled at his suspicious tone, forgetting her previous discomfort. Then she softened as guilt washed over her.

How could she sit here feeling sorry for herself while he dealt with such pain? He might seem gruff and overbearing, but how could she blame him? He’d lost his family less than a week ago, and now he was confronted with a sister-in-law he hadn’t realized existed until just a few moments ago.

At the very least he deserved an explanation, something to help him make sense of the situation.

No matter how humbling it might be for her to tell him the story.

“Your brother was in need of someone to help raise his daughter,” she said evenly. “And I wished to find a husband and household of my own. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

“As for why we did it by proxy…” She shrugged. “My family wouldn’t hear of my leaving Ohio without ironclad assurances that the wedding would actually take place, and this seemed the best solution.”

His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t identify. “Forgive my bluntness, ma’am, but why you? I mean, you just admitted the two of you never met. And, unless things around here have changed more than I realized, I’m sure Lanny could have found a local girl more than willing to marry him and help raise Annabeth.”

She gave the edge of her bonnet a little tug. He was treading on uncomfortable territory. “Your brother is—was—a good-hearted, God-fearing man. He was very open about the fact that he wasn’t looking for, nor could he offer, a love match.” She brushed at an imaginary speck on her skirt. “He loved Julia very much and was certain he would never feel the same about another woman. I understood and accepted that.”

Callie titled her chin up as she met her inquisitor’s gaze. “I think he found it easier to say those things in a letter, and to someone he hadn’t grown up with.”

At his raised brow, she looked down at her clasped hands. “Besides which, as I said, your brother was a very kindhearted man. He knew I would receive his offer in the same spirit in which it was given, and as the possible answer to a long-standing prayer of my own.”

He handed the papers back to her. “Ma’am, you just raised a whole wagonload more questions than you answered with that statement.”

His tone had lost some of its belligerent edge. He seemed to be leaving it up to her as to whether she continued her story or not.

And his consideration lifted some of her reluctance to explain. “So ask your questions.”

“It sounds like, in spite of what you said a moment ago, you and my brother knew each other.”

“Knew of each other would be more accurate.” She tucked her marriage papers back in her purse. “Through Julia.”

He made a small movement of surprise. “You knew Julia?”

Callie nodded. “Yes. Her family lived next door to mine when we were children. We were best friends, closer than sisters, and almost inseparable. It was one of the saddest days of my life when I learned they were packing up and moving to Texas. She and I kept in touch after that through letters.” She smiled. “Julia wrote the most wonderful letters. I feel like I already know the people and the town here.”

He sat up straighter. “Wait a minute. You said your name was Callista. You’re Callie.”

Her brow furrowed at his abrupt statement. “Yes.”

“Julia talked about you all the time when she first moved here. Really looked forward to getting them letters from you, too.”

Her smile softened. “As I said, we were close. Even after she moved here, I always felt I could confide anything to her. Julia was that kind of friend.”

He rubbed his chin. “So that’s how my brother knew so much about you.”

She nodded. “Once Julia was married, she shared some of the things from my letters with her husband. She asked first, of course, and I didn’t mind. And naturally her letters to me were sprinkled with references to him.”

“Naturally.”

She wondered at his dry tone, but continued with her story. “Julia assured me she and Leland often included me in their prayers, a consideration I cherished. It also let me know that Leland was familiar with both my dreams and my situation.”

“Situation?”

Callie took a deep breath and loosened the strings to her bonnet.

This was it.

Time to get it all out in the open. How would he react? Would he be as understanding as his brother? “Yes, my situation. The reason why I’m nearly twenty-six years old and unmarried. The reason why I always wear this stuffy bonnet when I’m in public. The reason why I would probably have remained a spinster the rest of my days if your brother hadn’t made his generous offer.”

Slowly she pushed the confining bonnet back until it hung loose behind her neck. She’d thought she was past feeling self-conscious. She shouldn’t care what this man thought of her appearance, but somehow she did.

She lifted her head and waited for his inevitable reaction.

Jack watched her remove her bonnet and got his first good look at her face. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected after her dramatic lead-in, but it wasn’t this.

While not beautiful, she was passably fair, pretty even, at least in profile. Her hair was sandstone brown and her green eyes were brighter now that they could more fully reflect the sunlight. She had a small crook in her nose, but that added interest to her appearance rather than detracted from it.

So what was this “situation” she’d mentioned? “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t—”

Then she turned to him and he stopped cold. He winced before he could stop himself.

Along the left side of her face, from mid-cheek to hairline, her skin was stained by a palm-sized blotchy patch of a deep red color. It was difficult to see past such disfigurement to the pleasant picture she’d presented a few seconds ago.

Her gaze drilled into his, allowing him to look his fill, waiting for him to say something.

But he had no idea what to say.

She finally turned away, presenting him with her unblemished profile again. Her shoulders drooped slightly, but she gave no other sign that she’d noted his reaction.

“So now you know.” Her voice was steady and surprisingly unemotional as she reached back and pulled her close-fitting bonnet up once more. “Your brother understood what he was taking on by marrying me. And he also understood why I would see his offer as a welcome opportunity to finally have a family of my own.”

Her acceptance of his unguarded reaction made him feel like a complete oaf, like the worst kind of mannerless fool. “I—”

She raised a hand, palm out. “There’s no need to say anything, Mr. Tyler.” She faced him fully again, her smile perhaps a little too bright. “I assure you I’m quite accustomed to such first-time reactions.”

It was good of her to give him an out, but his momma raised him better than that. “Look, ma’am, I’m sorry I was so rude. You caught me by surprise, is all. And, well, I don’t believe in fancy speeches or anything, but I want you to know I admire you for agreeing to my brother’s scheme and coming out here on your own the way you did. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision.”

At least the whole situation made more sense now. It was exactly the kind of grand gesture Lanny would make.

Her smile warmed a bit. “You’d be surprised.” Then she brushed at her skirt. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m ready to pay my respects to my—our—family.”

Jack recognized her desire to change the subject. “Agreed.” He helped her rise, then offered his arm as they made their way across the churchyard.

Once through the cemetery entrance, he led her around the inside perimeter, past the graves of his parents, to three freshly turned mounds with markers. Nell and Jed rested side by side, and Lanny was buried a few yards away, next to Julia’s grave.

Jack stopped in front of Nell’s grave while his companion trudged the last few steps to Lanny and Julia’s resting places.

Somewhere nearby a blue jay squawked his displeasure. A heartbeat later Jack caught a flash of movement as a squirrel raced down the trunk of a nearby pecan tree.

Other than that, everything was hushed, still.

He frowned at the half dozen or so pink roses someone had placed on his sister’s grave. That wasn’t right. Daisies were Nell’s favorite flower.

The memories pelted him, one after the other, piercing him with their clarity, battering his attempts to hold them at bay.

He could see his little sister, skipping along the fence row, pigtails bouncing, picking armloads of the yellow blooms. Then she’d sit under the oak tree in their yard and make braids and crowns and other little girl treasures for hours on end.

Ah, Nell, I’m so sorry I didn’t come home sooner like you kept after me to. You always warned me I’d be sorry I waited so long, and as usual, you were right.

He twisted his hat brim in his hands.

I’ll find you some daisies tomorrow, I promise. Bunches of them.

A leaf drifted on the breeze and landed on the grassless mound. Jack stared at it as if memorizing the nuances of color and the tracery of its veins were vital.

About those young’uns of yours. You know I don’t know anything about being a father. And they sure deserve a lot better than me. But I swear to you, whatever happens, I’ll do my level best to see that they’re taken care of proper.

He wasn’t sure if mere seconds or several minutes passed before he finally looked up and took his bearings again.

The woman, Callie—easier to think of her as Julia’s friend than Leland’s wife—stood between the markers that served as Lanny and Julia’s headstones with her head bowed and her eyes closed.

Was she feeling faint?

Or praying?

As if she felt his gaze, she looked up and drew in a deep breath, then let it go on a sigh. Jack joined her and stared silently at his brother’s grave.

Lanny, the big brother who was good at just about everything he attempted, who could be bossier than the day was long, but who bent over backwards to lend a hand where it was needed.

Regret threaded itself through Jack’s feeling of loss. Why hadn’t he come here sooner, made peace with Lanny, offered him the apology he deserved?

Now he would never have that chance….

Movement drew his gaze to Julia’s grave. He watched as a butterfly, its wings the same deep blue that Julia’s eyes had been, landed briefly on her marker, then fluttered toward them. It rested momentarily on Callie’s bonnet before drifting away on the breeze.

When he looked back, he found her watching him. He straightened and shoved his hat back on his head. “Ready?”

She nodded and took the arm he offered. Their silence was companionable this time, all of the tension that had been there when they marched through town earlier having evaporated.

He was surprised to realize how glad he was that she’d been here these past few minutes. Somehow it felt right to have her share this graveside visit, to mourn alongside him for a few moments over their mutual loss.

“Those poor little ones,” she said softly. “They must be so confused and frightened by what’s happened.”

The mention of the children brought back his earlier worries. Was he up to the job of playing nursemaid to three confused and frightened young’uns?

“Who’s been looking out for them since the accident?” she asked.

“Mrs. Mayweather.” At her questioning look, he elaborated. “Sweetgum’s schoolteacher. She offered to take them in until I could get here.”

“How kind of her. Does she have children of her own?”

Jack smiled at the thought of the major general of a woman that was Alberta Mayweather having a husband to “take care of her.” “The ‘Mrs.’ is more of a courtesy title,” he explained. “She never married. But Mrs. Mayweather’s been schoolteacher here since before I was born, and she knows what she’s doing when it comes to watching over young’uns.”

Unlike me.

Jack’s gut tightened. He had quite a tangle to deal with, and it kept growing. He still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do about the three kids, and now he had to add Lanny’s widow to the mix.

Of course, he probably wouldn’t have that added worry for long. Now that Lanny was gone, she’d likely head back to Ohio where she’d be amongst people she knew.

“Then they’re lucky to have someone like her looking out for them.” Her steps quickened slightly. “But the sooner they can settle into a permanent home again with family around them, the better it’ll be.”

Hah! Easy enough for her to say. She didn’t have the responsibility of making it happen.

Her sigh interrupted his thoughts. “I just pray that, with God’s help, I can be a good mother to Annabeth.”

Mother? Jack stopped in his tracks.

“Wait just a minute. You can’t honestly believe you’re going to take charge of my niece.”

He might not know how to be a father, but he’d just made a solemn promise to Nell and Lanny to give it his best shot. And there was no way he’d break a promise like that. No sir, he wasn’t about to hand any of those kids over to a stranger.

No matter who she’d been married to.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back down. “In case you’ve forgotten, helping to raise Annabeth was the reason Leland asked me to come here. I’m still Annabeth’s stepmother. Of course I’m going to take care of her,” she said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Stepmother!” He rubbed the back of his neck, more to keep himself from reaching out to shake some sense into the woman than anything else. “You were married to my brother for less than half a day. Why, I’ll wager you’ve never even laid eyes on Annabeth, have you?”

She crossed her arms and he saw a flash of temper in her eyes. “Have you?”

He didn’t much care for the ring of challenge in her tone. “I’m her blood kin,” he argued, sidestepping the question. “It’s my responsibility to—”

She yanked the marriage papers from her handbag and held them in front of his face. “Not according to these documents.”

The woman was downright maddening. If she thought for one minute he was going to let her lay claim to Annabeth, she was going to be mighty disappointed.

He was maddening! Why couldn’t he see that this was something she needed to do, was meant to do? It had to be why God had led her here.

That reminder drew Callie up short.

There she went, making assumptions again.

“I’m sorry.” She offered a conciliatory smile. “I don’t believe either of us is thinking clearly right now. I’m certain we both have Annabeth’s best interests at heart, and that’s what counts. We just need to make certain we understand what those are.”

His expression didn’t soften a bit. “The best thing for her right now is to be with her family. And that’s me and her cousins.”

Callie took a deep breath and tried again. “Mr. Tyler, why don’t we call a truce for the moment. At least long enough to pray about it. I’m sure God will help us resolve this if we just look to Him for guidance.”

Her oh-so-stubborn brother-in-law didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave her a peculiar look.

A prickly unease stole over her, engulfing her like a scratchy woolen cloak.

No. She must have misinterpreted his expression.

Leland and Julia had been such steadfast Christians. Surely Leland’s brother…

She forced her lips to form the question.

“You do believe in God, Mr. Tyler, don’t you?”

Chapter Five

Callie watched as Jack paused, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he gestured back the way they’d come. “My dad helped build that church and my mother was the organist there for years.”

She frowned. What his parents did or didn’t do had nothing to do with—

“It’s just, well, I’m not really the praying sort.”

The words shocked her. “I don’t understand.”

He shifted his weight. “Look, I don’t have anything against folks praying if they’ve a mind to. It’s just that I don’t believe in asking for handouts myself. I cotton more to the ‘God helps those who help themselves’ way of thinking.”

Callie blinked. Surely she’d misunderstood. “Mr. Tyler, asking for guidance and direction from our Heavenly Father is not the same as asking for a handout.” She saw the skepticism in his eyes and tried again. “Besides which, there is absolutely nothing wrong with humbling ourselves before the Almighty.”

He waved his hand as if to brush her words aside. “Ma’am, you just go right ahead and pray for guidance if that makes you feel better.” Then he folded his arms across his chest and his eyes turned flinty. “But I’m telling you right now, there’s nothing on earth—or in heaven, for that matter—that’s going to convince me to turn any member of my family over to a stranger, no matter how strong that stranger might think her claim is.”

Callie pursed her lips, not trusting herself to respond immediately. It wasn’t about just Annabeth now. All three youngsters deserved to have a proper Christian influence in their lives. It was what their parents would have wanted for them, and it was the right thing to do. Actually, it was the most important thing.

She might not be the best person to fill that role, but God could use even the most flawed vessel to do His work. She was more determined than ever to have a hand in raising these children.

She focused again on Leland’s brother. He seemed to have nothing in common at the moment with the compassionate, generous man she’d come to know through years of correspondence.

Not the praying kind indeed!

Time to try another tack. “Mr. Tyler, I find myself quite weary from the day’s events, and would prefer not to stand here arguing with you. I’d like to meet Annabeth and then find a place to refresh myself, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes narrowed and she wondered for a minute if he would continue to argue despite her request. But he gave a quick nod. “Of course. This way.”

As he offered his arm he gave her a warning look. “Just don’t think this means I’ve changed my thinking. You’re welcome to stick around if you’ve a mind to. But the care of the children—all of the children—is my responsibility.”

We’ll just see about that. After the briefest of hesitations, she placed her hand on his arm, giving him her sweetest smile. “I must admit, your concern for the well-being of the children does do you credit, Mr. Tyler.”

Jack escorted his suspiciously compliant sister-in-law to Mrs. Mayweather’s home. The woman wasn’t fooling him with that winsome smile and those sugar-coated words of hers. He knew good and well she hadn’t given up the battle yet.

Well, she could scheme and plot all she wanted. It didn’t change his mind one jot about his duty to Annabeth, Simon and Emma.

But as they drew closer to Mrs. Mayweather’s home, his thoughts turned from Lanny’s widow to the three children.

What was he going to say to them? He was their closest living kin, but he’d never laid eyes on them before—not since Nell’s oldest was an infant, anyway—and they certainly didn’t know him.

How much had their parents told them about him? Or had the subject of their absent Uncle Jack ever even come up?

How would they react when they met him? How would he deal with their grief when he was still trying to absorb the loss himself?

His free hand clenched and unclenched. How could this woman walking beside him talk about looking to God for guidance when that same God allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? If the Almighty had wanted to take another Tyler, it should have been him. His passing, unlike that of his brother and sister, wouldn’t have left a hole in anyone’s life.

His face must have betrayed some of what he was thinking because Callie cast a questioning glance his way. Luckily, they had finally reached Mrs. Mayweather’s front gate.

“Here we are,” he said, cutting off any comment she might have made. He opened the gate without meeting her gaze and gestured for her to precede him up the flagstone walkway.

Before they’d made it halfway to the porch, a tall, spare woman stepped out to greet them.

Age had definitely not interfered with Mrs. Mayweather’s commanding presence. From the top of her tightly wound, steel gray bun to the hem of her no-frills, severely cut skirt, she still had that force-to-be-reckoned-with schoolmarm look that could quiet a classroom full of rowdy children with just a raised brow.

“Hello, Jackson. It’s good to see you back in Sweetgum again. My condolences for your loss.”

Facing her, Jack felt like a ten-year-old schoolboy again. “Thank you, ma’am.” He quickly turned to Callie. “This is—” He paused for the merest fraction of a second and she immediately stepped forward.

“Callista Tyler, ma’am. I am—was—married to Leland Tyler.”

Mrs. Mayweather nodded. “Yes. Virgil stopped by to explain the situation. Most astounding.” She paused a minute. “I must say, you seem to be holding up remarkably well under what must have been a terrible shock.”

“It’s kind of you to say so, ma’am.” She gave her bonnet a tug. “I’m afraid the full impact of the situation hasn’t entirely sunk in yet.”

“Understandable.” Mrs. Mayweather tilted her head thoughtfully. “Callista. Unusual name, that. You wouldn’t by any chance be Julia’s friend Callie.”

“Why, yes.” Her smile warmed and some of the tension eased from her stance. “It seems my fame precedes me.”

“Well then, that explains quite a bit.” The schoolteacher nodded in satisfaction as if she’d solved a puzzle of some sort. “Julia always spoke of you in such glowing terms. It’s no wonder Leland turned to you for this special kind of help after she passed on.”

She waved toward the far end of the porch. “By the way, since we weren’t certain how things would sort themselves out, I instructed Virgil to deposit your baggage here for the time being.”

“Why, thank you, I—” The widow seemed a bit overwhelmed by their hostess.

Jack knew the feeling. He stepped forward. “Where are the children?”

“They’re upstairs, digging through an old trunk of mine. I’ll call them down shortly, but I thought it would be best if we had a chat first.”

“Of course.” Jack felt a guilty surge of relief at being able to put off the moment of truth a little longer.

Mrs. Mayweather stepped aside. “Now come on in to the parlor. You both look as if you could do with a cool glass of lemonade, and we have matters to discuss.”

Callie nodded. “Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

Jack removed his hat and followed the ladies inside.

“You may set your hat on the hall table there, Jackson.” She turned to Callie. “Feel free to set your bonnet and handbag there as well.”

He tensed in sympathy. What would Callie do? How would she handle this?

Once again, she surprised him. Though she moved with a sort of deliberate slowness, her initial hesitation was so brief he doubted Mrs. Mayweather noted it.

With steady hands, she loosened the strings to her bonnet and let it fall behind her head.

Mrs. Mayweather studied her for a minute. “A birthmark, I presume?” At Callie’s nod, she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed. I’m beginning to understand why Julia had such respect and admiration for you.”

Callie was startled by the woman’s words and didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing. She pulled her bonnet back up, wondering exactly how much Julia had said about her and to whom.

Mrs. Mayweather raised a hand to stop her. “No need to do that on my account.”

Callie smiled, but firmly tied her ribbons. “Thank you, but I’d rather that not be the first view the children have of me.”

“As you wish.” A slight nod accompanied the words. “But I think you would be surprised by how accepting children can be.”

A few moments later, they were seated in the parlor and Mrs. Mayweather was pouring glasses of lemonade.

“I know a man of the world such as yourself would probably prefer something stronger,” she said as Jack reached for his, “but I’m afraid you will have to make do with this for now.”

“This will do just fine, thank you.” He took a long drink, then set the glass down. “So how are the young’uns doing?”

Mrs. Mayweather’s face softened in concern and Callie saw a whole new side of her.

“About as one would expect. They went through such a horrid experience. At least they didn’t have to witness the fire firsthand.”

Callie sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. She’d worried…

“As it happens, Simon had taken Emma and Annabeth down to the livery,” Mrs. Mayweather continued briskly. “He wanted to show them a new foal that had been born the day before. When they heard the alarm, they headed back to the café. Luckily, the O’Connor sisters spotted them and had sense enough to keep them from going anywhere near the fire.”

Callie saw past the woman’s businesslike tone. “And so you took them in.”

Mrs. Mayweather nodded. “I had the room and the time to see to them, since school had let out for summer the week before.”

Jack stood and moved to one of the windows. “Still, I’m very beholden,” he said without turning around.

“I just thank the Lord I had the means to step in.” She refilled Callie’s glass. “But back to your question. The tragedy has affected each of them differently. Simon has turned from an active, outgoing boy to one who is belligerent and aloof.”

She waved a hand. “Emma has always been a quiet child, but now she clings to Simon like bark to a tree. She can barely stand to have him out of her sight for more than a few minutes. Simon is taking his role of big brother seriously—too seriously, if you ask me. He insisted I set his cot in the room with the girls when Emma balked at separating from him even in sleep.”

“And Annabeth?”

Mrs. Mayweather sighed. “I’m not certain. Bless her, she was just beginning to move on from the loss of her mother, then this happened. She misses her father terribly, of course. But the child, who’s normally quite the little chatterbox, has barely said a word since the accident, except in answer to a direct question.”

Callie twisted her hands nervously in her skirts. “Do you think she knows? About me, I mean.”

Mrs. Mayweather gave her a sympathetic smile. “If so, she hasn’t given any sign. But, as I mentioned, she hasn’t said more than a handful of words since her father passed. Besides, even if Leland did say something to her, she may not have understood. She’s only four, after all.”

Jack turned to face them and crossed his arms. “It doesn’t matter whether she knows or not. Like I said, Annabeth is my concern now.”

Callie carefully set her glass down, resisting the urge to retort in kind. Lord, give me patience. Please!

She caught a measuring look Mrs. Mayweather gave the two of them.

The woman stood. “Well, I can tell the children certainly won’t want for family willing to take them in. You two help yourselves to more lemonade while I let them know you’re here.”

Jack’s expression gave nothing away, but she saw him rub the back of his neck. Was he as nervous about facing the children for the first time as she was?

Moments later, Callie’s entire being focused on the sound of footsteps tromping down the stairs.

Simon entered first, looking both ready to take on the world and achingly vulnerable at the same time. His sister, Emma, was close by his side, her arm wound tightly with his, her eyes wide and uncertain.

But it was the third and youngest of the children that captured Callie’s attention. The little girl hung back a bit while still holding on to Emma’s other hand.

Callie would have been able to pick Annabeth out of a ballroom full of little girls. She looked so much like Julia it made her heart ache. The same bouncy blond curls, the same bright blue eyes, the same pink bow of a mouth.

Mrs. Mayweather spoke up first. “Children, remember I told you that your Uncle Jack would be coming?” She made a flourishing movement with her hand. “Well, here he is.”

Then she gestured toward Callie. “And we also have a surprise visitor.”

Annabeth stared at Callie with wide, questioning eyes. Was it possible the child was expecting her after all?

Simon, however, seemed to be the designated spokesman for the trio. He completely ignored Callie as he gave Jack an assessing look. “So you’re our Uncle Jack.”

Jack strode to the middle of the room. “That’s right. And I’ve come to take care of you.” He smiled at the two girls. “All of you.”

None of the three returned Jack’s smile.

“Momma talked about you some.” Simon’s tone hadn’t softened. “And she read your letters to us when they came.” His eyes narrowed. “It made her sad that you never came around.”

To Callie’s surprise, Jack didn’t attempt to make excuses.

Instead he nodded and walked right up to his nephew. “I’m sorry about that—more sorry than you can rightly know. I should have been a better brother to both her and your Uncle Lanny.” He laid a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “But I’m here now.”

Simon didn’t seem appeased. “She said you had to move around a lot ’cause you work for the railroad.” The boy put a protective arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Does that mean we have to travel around the country with you?”

Callie found herself as interested as Simon was to hear Jack’s answer.

Jack took a minute, stepping back and crossing his arms again. “Well, now, I plan to stay right here in Sweetgum for the time being. We’re going to stick together, just like families are supposed to.”

Emma sidled closer to her brother’s side, drawing Annabeth with her. “But where are we going to live? Our house is all gone now.” Her voice was so soft Callie had to lean forward to hear her.

Jack nodded solemnly. “I know, and I’ve been giving that some thought. Your house may be gone but Annabeth’s house is still sound. And I’ll just bet she’d be glad to let us all live there with her.”

Annabeth, who hadn’t yet taken her eyes off Callie, turned to Emma. “Oh, yes,” she said, nodding her head emphatically. “There’s lots and lots of room there. You could even bring Cookie and nobody would care how much he barked out there.”

“There now.” Jack gave Emma an encouraging smile. “You’ve been to Annabeth’s house before, haven’t you? It’s the same house your momma lived in when she was your age.”

Emma nodded, tentatively responding to Jack’s smile.

But Simon was far from won over. “Annabeth’s house is on a farm way out in the country. All of our friends live here in town.”

Annabeth’s face crumpled into a hurt expression. “But Simon, it’s a very nice house. Don’t you want to come live with me?”

Emma gave her young cousin’s hand a squeeze. “Simon didn’t mean anything by that. Of course he likes your house.” She gave her brother a little nudge. “Don’t you?”

Simon gave a grudging nod.

Appeased, Annabeth turned her attention back to Callie. She let go of Emma’s hand and took a tentative step forward, her head cocked at a questioning angle. “Are you going to come live with us, too?”

Callie clasped her hands together tightly, fighting the urge to reach out for the child. She didn’t want to frighten her. “Would you like for me to?”

Annabeth crossed the room and stopped directly in front of her. With pudgy fingers that weren’t quite clean, she reached up and started to push aside Callie’s bonnet.

Callie’s first instinct was to pull back, to stop the child from revealing the hidden ugliness. But something about the hope in the little girl’s expression changed her mind.

Forcing herself to sit completely still, Callie held her breath and waited for Annabeth’s reaction.

Chapter Six

As soon as the bonnet fell back, Callie heard a startled gasp from Emma and peripherally noted the way Simon’s eyes widened.

But Annabeth’s response was entirely unexpected.

A large smile blossomed on her face and she touched the discolored skin almost reverently. “It’s you,” she said, her voice tinged with delight. “You finally came.”

Callie’s heart hitched painfully as she expelled the breath she’d been holding. “Annabeth, do you know who I am?”

The child nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes. You’re the lady Daddy said was going to come live with us, to be my new mommy.” Her face took on a more somber expression. “I was so scared you wouldn’t come since Daddy wasn’t here anymore.”

“Oh, sweetheart, there wasn’t any reason to worry.” Callie smoothed the child’s hair. “I came here as much to be with you as with your daddy.”

Callie’s heart lightened at this further evidence that Leland had never wavered in his commitment to keep his promise. “So, your daddy told you about me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Annabeth smiled. “He said we were lucky you were coming to stay with us, that you were a friend of Momma’s ever since she was my age. But it was supposed to be a secret so he could tell Aunt Nell and Uncle Jed first.” She gave Callie an anxious look. “I didn’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Callie touched the child’s cheek. “I know you didn’t, sweetie. Your daddy would be very proud of you. But how did you know I was the one?”

“Because of what daddy said about you. He told me you were very special because you have angel kisses on the side of your face.”

A lump formed in Callie’s throat. That’s what Julia used to say when they were little girls. It had always made her feel so special.

Annabeth stared deep into her eyes. “Do you think my daddy is up in heaven getting angel kisses, too?”

Callie pulled the child onto her lap. “Of course I do. And your mommy is right there with him. I imagine both of them are watching you and smiling at how brave you are.”

Annabeth gave a satisfied nod and then threw her arms around Callie in a tight embrace.

Callie buried her face in the child’s curls, feeling an immediate bond with her. The fierceness of her desire to cherish and protect Julia’s child was almost frightening.

Dear God, please don’t put this sweet child into my life just to separate us again. If it be Your will, help me make Lanny’s brother understand that I need to be here.

She glanced up to find Jack staring at her, frowning uncertainly. Surely he could see how right it was that she have some hand in the child’s upbringing, couldn’t he?

But Annabeth wasn’t the only child who needed reassurances here. Callie gave Julia’s daughter one last squeeze. Then she put her down and stood, looking at the other two children. “You must be Simon and Emma Carson. I’m a very good friend of your Aunt Julia, and I came here to live with Annabeth.”

Neither child said anything, but their gazes remained locked on the red splotch that marred Callie’s face.

Callie drifted closer, casually pulling her bonnet back in place and tying the ribbons as she did so. “Your Aunt Julia and I used to write to each other. Her letters were quite long and wonderful. She shared all kinds of things about this town and her favorite people here. And that included you two, of course.”

“It did?” Emma seemed more at ease now that Callie’s bonnet was back in place.

“What kind of things did she say about us?” Simon’s voice held a note of challenge.

“Well, I know you’re eleven years old, that you’re a good student, and that you’re also good at building things.”

Simon seemed surprised by her words, but she noticed his chest puffed out with pride a bit.

Callie turned to Emma. “And as for you, young lady, you are eight years old and your Aunt Julia thought you were a very fine artist. She said you were always drawing her the prettiest pictures. Her favorites were the ones with flowers and rainbows.”

“I like to draw,” Emma acknowledged. She finally met Callie’s gaze. “Why do you call it angel kisses?”

Callie was relieved the girl was comfortable enough to talk about it. As Mrs. Mayweather had said earlier, children were usually much more forthright in confronting the subject than adults.

“I was born with this mark,” she explained. “Sometimes, when your Aunt Julia and I were little girls, she would tell me that she thought it was there because just before God sent me down to be with my parents, one of his angels bent over and kissed me on the cheek.”

Emma studied Callie’s face, as if trying to see past the bonnet. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all. It’s always been just a part of who I am.” Callie gently touched a spot near the corner of Emma’s mouth. “Just like this little mole right here is a part of you.”

“Oh.” Emma’s hand reached for the spot Callie had touched. “And like my friend Molly’s freckles?”

“That’s right. But I tell you what. I know it’s a little scary right at first. So why don’t I just keep this bonnet on for the time being, at least until we get to know each other better.”

Emma nodded. Then her brow furrowed. “What are we supposed to call you?”

Caught off guard, Callie glanced up at Jack. She had no real claim on Simon and Emma. But, then again, she had been married to their uncle. She turned back to Emma. “Why don’t you just call me Aunt Callie?”

“Aunt Callie.” Emma tried out the name, then nodded approval. “That’s nice.”

“That’s settled then.”

“So you will be living at the farm with us.” Annabeth made the pronouncement with all the confidence of a self-assured four-year-old.

Jack cleared his throat and Simon started to voice another protest.

But Mrs. Mayweather stepped in before either of them got very far. “Children.” With that one word, she claimed everyone’s attention. “Why don’t the three of you go outside and check on Cookie. Simon, there is a bone left over from yesterday’s supper on the kitchen counter that you may take to him.”

Once the children left the room, Jack turned to Mrs. May-weather. “I want to thank you again for taking them in until I could get here.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I suppose I should ask them to pack up their things so we can head on over to the farm.”

Callie sat up straighter. No! He was not going to sidestep her claim that easily. Those children needed her. “I don’t believe that is your decision to make, Mr. Tyler.”

He frowned. “We’ve already—”

She cut off his attempt to play the kin card again. “As your brother’s widow, I believe I should have some say as to who will be staying at the farm.”

“Are you saying you want to go out there yourself?”

“I don’t—”

Mrs. Mayweather held up a hand to halt their discussion. “It appears to me that the two of you have some things to work out in respect to the children’s future. After all, you only learned the full extent of the situation a few hours ago.”

“It seems pretty cut and dried to me,” Jack groused.

Mrs. Mayweather drew herself up. “Jackson Garret Tyler, I will thank you to mind your tone when you are in my home.”

Apparently it didn’t matter how old Jack was—he would always be a recalcitrant schoolboy to Mrs. Mayweather. Callie carefully swallowed a grin.

Jack mumbled an apology, chafing under Mrs. Mayweather’s obvious censure.

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him today. One minute he was breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of taking sole responsibility for the three kids, and the next he was ready to fight to the death against anyone who’d dare try to take that privilege from him.

Mrs. Mayweather smoothed her skirts and gave them both equally stern looks. “Now, you’ve had a long day, both physically and emotionally. This is probably not the best time for you to make any major decisions.”

Callie nodded. “I agree. It would be best if we spent a little more time seeking guidance in this matter.”

Jack bit back a retort. There she went with that “seeking guidance” talk again. Didn’t the woman know how to make a decision on her own? Or did she think her delaying tactics would give her some sort of advantage in their tug-of-war?

Mrs. Mayweather, however, didn’t give him an opportunity to voice his objections. “Quite sensible. I insist the children stay here with me another night or two, while you two get everything worked out. It would be criminal to uproot them again before there is some certainty as to where they will live and with whom.” She looked from Callie to Jack. “Are we agreed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Callie’s response was quick and confident.

No surprise there. It was exactly what she wanted—time to build her case. But he couldn’t come up with an argument that didn’t sound petty, so, under Mrs. Mayweather’s stern gaze, he had no choice but to follow suit. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Jackson, you are welcome to stay for supper. The more time you and Callista spend in the children’s company, the better for everyone. Afterward, I suggest you spend the night at the farm. It will relieve Virgil of the responsibility of taking care of the chores in the morning. You may use my horse and buggy to get there.”

She rose as if the matter were settled. Which he supposed it was.

His brother’s widow stood uncertainly. “I suppose I should get a room at the hotel.”

Mrs. Mayweather frowned. “Nonsense. You’ll stay here with me and the children.”

She held up a hand, halting any protest Callie might make. “This is no time to stand on ceremony. Your presence has already made such a difference to Annabeth. She’s spoken more in these past few minutes than she has the last four days.”

Jack frowned at this point in Callie’s favor in their battle for guardianship of the children.

“Besides,” Mrs. Mayweather continued, “you can help me with some of the extra chores that have resulted from the presence of the children.”

That seemed to seal the deal for Callie. “Of course. Thank you.”

There was a feeling of feminine conspiracy to this. Not that the arrangement didn’t make sense from a strictly logistical standpoint. The only problem was, it let his sister-in-law have free rein with the kids while he was exiled to the farm. Which gave her a leg up in winning the children’s favor.

He’d have to find a way to level the field.

Callie had mixed emotions that evening as she watched Jack walk out Mrs. Mayweather’s kitchen door.

Just as when he’d started to walk away from her beside the stagecoach this afternoon, she felt as if a lifeline was slipping away from her, leaving her stranded in unfamiliar territory.

Strange. As stubborn as the man was, she felt they’d formed a connection of sorts. After all, when he wasn’t being so pig-headedly combative over the matter of the children, he was actually nice. And even in that matter, one had to admire a man who was willing to take his perceived responsibilities so much to heart.

Callie turned away from the door with a tired sigh.

So much had happened today. It had begun with her looking forward to starting life as a wife and a mother, and ended with the discovery that she was a widow who would have to fight to maintain her claim on her stepchild. What a welcome to Texas. Her father would—

Oh, no! She raised a hand to her mouth and spun around to face her hostess.

“My goodness, dear, you look as if you just burned Sunday dinner and the preacher’s at the door. Whatever is it?”

“I promised my family I’d send a telegraph when I arrived so they would know I was safe. It slipped my mind until just now.” She grimaced. “I hate to impose, but would you have a piece of paper and a pen I could use?” Silly of her to feel this sense of urgency since she wouldn’t be able to send the telegram until tomorrow. But doing this would provide a small bit of normalcy to a day that had spun out of control.

A few minutes later, Callie sat at a small desk tucked in the parlor. She dipped the pen in the inkwell, then paused.

What would she say? How much should she say?

Her family worried about her so. No good would be served by adding to their concerns. After all, she had confidence that God would see her through this.

But she couldn’t lie to them.

Best to keep it short and non-committal for the moment. Nodding to herself, she quickly jotted down three sentences.

Have arrived safely in Sweetgum. Already made new friends who have welcomed me warmly. Will send a letter with further news soon.

As she set the pen down, Callie’s thoughts turned to resuming her battle of wits with Jackson Garret Tyler in the morning.

Surprisingly, her feeling about this was not dread—but anticipation.

Chapter Seven

Jack clicked his tongue, encouraging the horse to pick up the pace as the sun edged lower on the horizon. Not that he needed daylight to find his way. Even after eleven years, the road was as familiar to him as his own face.

He’d already made a quick stop at Virgil’s place to let him know he wouldn’t need to worry about handling the chores at the Tyler farm any longer. Luckily he’d caught Virgil out in the barn so he hadn’t had to spend time on pleasantries with his friend’s family. There’d be time enough for neighborly visits in the days to come.

Jack didn’t really consider himself a sentimental man, so the little kick of expectation that hit him when he turned the buggy onto the familiar drive surprised him.

As soon as the house came into full view, he tugged on the reins, halting the horse and buggy. The sight that greeted him was at once soul-deep familiar and strangely foreign.

The same two-story gabled structure sat on the lawn like a fat hen guarding her nest.

The same large oak tree spread its made-for-climbing branches over the left side of the lawn.

The same red barn pointed its cupola to the sky.

But Lanny and Julia, not to mention Father Time, had made noticeable changes. There was now a roomy swing on one end of the wraparound front porch. The oak tree was several feet taller and its branches shaded a much larger patch of ground than Jack remembered. And the gray-and-black speckled dog that came bounding from behind the barn was nothing like ole Clem.

With another flick of the reins, Jack directed the horse around the house and into the barn.

There were several changes in here as well. The old buggy had been replaced with a roomier one and it seemed Lanny had invested in some interesting-looking tools and equipment. It might be worth his while to do a little exploring in here when he had some time.

But for now he had to take care of bedding down the animals while there was still light enough to see by. He gave the energetic dog a bit of attention, then unhitched the horse and patted the animal as it moved past him toward the water trough.

As he worked at the chores that had once been second nature, his mind wondered over the day’s happenings.

Callie was a puzzle to him. Her intentions and determination were admirable, but he didn’t believe she understood what she was up against. Such an obviously sheltered city girl would have a hard time adjusting to life in a place like this. Especially now that she didn’t have a husband to smooth the way for her.

Still, there was something about the woman, something about the way she faced a fracas head-on rather than shying away that he found intriguing.

Had her life back in Ohio been so terrible that even with what had happened, she—

Jack gave his head a shake. He’d let her get under his skin. He had to remember that her personal problems were no concern of his. She wanted to challenge his claim to Annabeth, and that made her his opponent.

He gave the carriage horse one last brush with the currycomb then patted her again, sending her into an empty stall.

Once he’d fed and watered the other animals and taken care of the evening milking, Jack headed for the house. As he climbed the porch steps he ran a hand over the familiar support post. The etched image of a rearing horse his father had carved into the wood one rainy summer afternoon was still discernable, even under the layer of new paint.

Family mattered. Shared history mattered. That was something only he could offer those kids.

Jack stepped inside, noting the addition of a new screen door as he passed. He wandered through the first floor, feeling strangely disoriented by the mix of the familiar and the new. Everywhere he looked he could see where Julia and Lanny’s lives together had left a lasting imprint on the Tyler family home. New curtains here, a new chair there. A tin type picture of Julia’s parents now shared space on the mantle with those of the Tyler family. There was also a tintype of Lanny and Julia. Julia held an infant on her lap.

He soon discovered a room had been tacked on to the back of the house. Inside sat a shiny porcelain bathtub and some new-fangled laundry equipment. A hand pump stood against the far wall, sprouting from the back lip of a large metal sink. Next to the sink, a small iron fire box supported a large kettle, ready to heat the water when needed. Large windows set high on three of the four walls would provide ventilation without sacrificing privacy. Someone had even strung a cord below the rafters, no doubt to be used for hanging wet laundry when the weather made it uncomfortable to do so outside.

Not for the first time Jack admired his brother’s ingenuity. He could see how this setup would have been a great convenience for Julia. And it would make his life here with the kids that much easier, too.

Jack climbed the stairs, curious to see the bedchambers.

The first room he stepped into was the one he and Lanny had shared as children. Gone were the rock collections, pouches of marbles and patched overalls that had once marked it as the room of two active boys.

Now, everything was clean and neatly arranged. A number of subtle feminine touches had been added, too, no doubt thanks to Julia.

Still, if one looked close enough, the memories were there, lurking in the shadows. Memories of horseplay and fights, of discussions in the dark long after they were supposed to be asleep, of the big brother he’d adored and resented by turns.

Jack stepped farther into the room, looking for the wooden chests his father had built for them. He and Lanny had used them to store their few personal possessions.

Lanny’s was nowhere in sight but Jack found his tucked below the window sill with a lace doily and a needlework picture of some flowers on top.

Inside were the things he’d treasured growing up, the few items that had been his alone, that had never belonged to Lanny. He lifted out a leather pouch with a grin. It contained exactly twelve marbles—two nice sized aggies and ten immies. Lanny had given him two of these and taught him how to use them, but the rest Jack had won for himself from schoolyard games.

Of course, he’d never beaten Lanny. Lanny had been good at just about everything he tried. Much as Jack loved his brother, growing up in his shadow hadn’t been easy.

Which was one of the reasons he’d left Sweetgum. Only he’d never intended to stay away so long.

Jack shut the lid on the chest and left the room. Too bad he couldn’t shut out his feelings of guilt so easily.

He walked across the hall and opened the door to Nell’s old room. It still had the stamp of a little girl occupant—lace and frills and brightly colored hair ribbons everywhere. This had to be Annabeth’s domain now.

A rag doll lay on the bed. He should bring it to her in the morning, to give her back a little bit of her home.

Jack reached for it, but his fingers curled back into his palm. There was no similar memento he could bring to Nell’s kids. How would they feel as they watched Annabeth enjoy her piece of home?

He turned and left the room empty-handed.

Jack skipped the room next to Annabeth’s and moved instead to the one across from it. This used to be his mother’s domain. Its main function had been as a sewing room, but it had served a multitude of other purposes, too. A pull-down bed had turned it into a guest room when the rare overnight visitor came calling. Spare odds and ends had been stored on shelves that lined two of the walls. And his mother had also hung dried flowers and herbs in bunches from the rafters.

As soon as Jack pushed the door open, he was assaulted by the familiar smells of his childhood. Floral scents mingled with dill, mustard and mint. He could almost imagine his mother working in here, humming in that off-key way she had.

As he looked at the room, he noticed a nearly finished lap quilt attached to the quilting frame, patiently waiting for the seamstress who would never return.

A moment later it hit him that it wasn’t a lap quilt but one made for a baby’s bed.

He turned abruptly and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

The only room left to visit was the one that his parents had slept in. Except it would now be Lanny’s room, the one he and Julia had shared when she was alive. The one he had, no doubt, been prepared to share with Callie.

Jack decided he’d faced enough ghosts from his past for one night. He took the stairs two at a time and headed straight for the front door. Stepping out on the porch, he took a deep, soul-cleansing breath. Leaning his elbows on the rail, he listened to the night sounds and stared out at the shadowy forms of the landscape.

So many reminders, so many pieces of his family’s history—and dreams for the future—encompassed in this building, this place.

Did it all really belong to Lanny’s widow now? Just because of some quirk of timing that had her married to his older brother for a few short hours before his death?

If a person really decided to press the matter, he could argue that you couldn’t even call it married.

But it seemed mean-spirited to challenge her claim. After all, she’d come out here in good faith, pursuing her own dreams, and none of what had happened had been her fault.

It might be better for all concerned if he offered to buy out her claim on the farm. That way she could either purchase herself a place in town or head on back to where she came from with a nice little nest egg in hand.

As for the guardianship of Annabeth, Callie would come around on that once he talked to her again. Sure, he didn’t know exactly how he was going to handle raising the youngsters on his own, but he’d find a way. After all, there was no arguing that it was his responsibility to take care of Simon and Emma, so it just made sense for him to take Annabeth as well.

How much extra work could one little girl be?

The crux of the matter kept coming down to the fact that he and the kids were blood kin. Even a woman as stubborn as Lanny’s widow was proving herself to be couldn’t deny that they belonged together.

Yes, that was the best way to go.

And hang it all, he still believed someone like her just didn’t fit in here in Sweetgum, especially not all on her own. She’d be as out of place as a canary in a hen house.

Not that the woman lacked spirit. It had taken a lot of gumption for her to make it this far. And she certainly didn’t let the thought of what others might think of that birthmark stand in her way. Yes, all in all, quite a spirited woman.

Too bad she was so all-fired muleheaded.

Jack pushed away from the porch rail and jammed his hands in his pockets.

He’d never met a woman like her. True, it had been a while since he’d spent much time in what his mother used to call “polite company,” but he figured things hadn’t changed all that much. Callie was…well…hang it all, he hadn’t quite figured out what she was, besides being a thorn in his side. And just plain wrong about her rights in regard to Annabeth.

On the other hand, could he really say the kids would be better off with him than with her?

Rather than pursue that thought, he decided to turn in for the night.

Callie gently eased her armload of dirty breakfast dishes down on the counter next to the sink. She started rolling up her sleeves, then paused at the sound of a knock on the back door.

Mrs. Mayweather, who’d just placed a large kettle on the stove, glanced over her shoulder. “Callista, would you see who that is, please?”

Callie had a pretty good idea who was on the other side of the door, and she was certain Mrs. Mayweather did as well, but she dutifully wiped her hands on her borrowed apron. “Of course.”

As expected, she opened the door to find Jack standing there. He had a pail in one hand and a basket in the other.

“Ah, Jackson, there you are.” Mrs. Mayweather waved him in from behind Callie. “We saved you a bit of breakfast.”

“Thanks. It sure does smell good.” He lifted his offerings. “I brought some eggs and fresh milk for your larder.”

Studying his easy smile and friendly manner, Callie decided the man could be something of a charmer when he set his mind to it.

Mrs. Mayweather obviously agreed. She beamed approvingly as she held out her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll take those and put them away. You go on to the sink and wash up.”

She nodded to Callie as she passed. “Would you hand him a plate, please?”

Callie nodded and stepped past Jack, reaching into the cupboard. “Mrs. Mayweather brewed a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“Yes, thank you.”

There was a formality about their interactions today, a sort of stiff truce. But at least it was a truce.

She watched him heap a pile of eggs and two biscuits onto his plate, then he took a seat at the long kitchen table. Simon was still picking at his own breakfast but the girls had finished theirs.

Annabeth immediately moved to Jack’s side. “Did you see Cinnamon and Taffy and Pepper last night?” she asked before he’d even settled in.

“Cinnamon, Taffy and Pepper.” Jack drawled the words as he smeared jam on his biscuit. “Some of my favorite flavors. But I’m afraid I didn’t look in the pantry.”

Annabeth giggled. “They don’t live in the pantry, silly.”

“They don’t?”

Callie smiled at the teasing tone in Jack’s voice. Perhaps she’d been wrong about his ability to relate to the children. Maybe she should just step back and let him—

The memory of his declaration that he wasn’t “the praying kind” interrupted her move toward retreat and stiffened her resolve. It just plain didn’t matter how charming he could be, these children needed her in their lives, too.

But for now, she’d give him his share of time to create a connection with his nieces and nephew.

“They’re animals, not food,” Annabeth explained with exaggerated patience. She began to tick them off on her fingers. “Cinnamon is my pony and Taffy is the big yellow cat who lives in the barn and Pepper is our dog.”

“Oh!” Jack did a good job of sounding surprised. “Well, in that case, yes, I saw all three of them.”

The child twirled a curl with one pudgy finger. “Do you think they miss me?”

“I’m certain they do.”

Emma set her elbows on the table next to Simon. “I have a dog, too.”

Jack turned his attention to his other niece. “Do you?”

She nodded her head. “He’s a beagle and his name is Cookie.”

“Now, would he by any chance be that fine looking animal I saw outside next to Mrs. Mayweather’s carriage house?”

Emma beamed at the compliment. “Uh-huh. And I had a bird, too. Mr. Peepers. But he…” Her lower lip began to tremble.

Callie caught the panicked look on Jack’s face and quickly stepped in. “Emma, would you please bring me the empty platter from the stove?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jack gave her a small nod and she felt a warm glow at this ever-so-slight sign of gratitude. Maybe he was finally beginning to see how she could help with the children. Perhaps they could work this whole matter out amicably after all.

A few moments later he carried his dishes to the sink. Then, without so much as a glance her way, he turned back to the children. “I plan to head back out to the farm to take care of some chores. Why don’t you all come with me? Annabeth, you can visit with your animals. And Emma and Simon, you can take Cookie along and let him run as far and as long as he wants to.”

Callie stiffened, the glow quickly evaporating. Was he actually planning to take the children and not her?

Annabeth clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes! Do you think Mrs. Mayweather will let me bring some of her sugar cubes for Cinnamon?”

“We’ll ask her,” Jack answered. “But I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

“And Aunt Callie can come, too, can’t she?”

Bless Annabeth’s innocent little heart.

Jack cut her a quick glance, that stiff formality firmly back in place. “Yes, of course. That is, if she wants to?”

Was it her imagination, or did it sound as if he’d rather she declined the invitation?

She lifted her chin and smiled sweetly. “I need to make a stop at the telegraph office first, but I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”

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